Simple Motions
by Poli Almasy
Summary: Motions in themselves are simple, reactions complicate things owxpw
1. Motion One

Title: Simple Motions  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: Oliver+Percy, suggested Harry+Ron and GeorgexFred  
Comment: Watch me flail around some more! Um...if anyone shows intrest I'll continue it, if it's a dead weight I'll drop it. As far as the pairings, if you understand the difference between a + and a x consider yourself an informed yaoi reader :D I don't write slash, I write yaoi, and yes in my mind they are different, because I'm weird! And I need to lay off the Tatu music while writing.  
  
--  
  
Who is it that crosses your mind? Who is it you think of at night? If I only knew I could make myself more like her. Although there would still be that one great flaw, I'll never be a her. But if you look beyond that, maybe you could grow to love me? I wish you would be able to, because I think of you, no one but you. Simple motions and silence charms, that's all it takes isn't it? Like dancing by yourself, your heart rate goes up and your breath quickens but in the end you realize its awkward and you're cold and lonely. There is no warmth in ones own simple motions, even if you do pretend its someone else, nothing more then an empty moment and simple motions. Even if I am thinking of only you.  
  
When we were fourth years, well, I hadn't realized everything yet, but there was one night, your silencing charm didn't work, or perhaps you didn't even use one. It drove me mad, your simple motions. We've always been the only two in the room. I've wondered why there weren't any more Gryffindors in our year. The sound of your breath as it escaped your lips, the other small sounds you made, not words, not gasps, something else. Do you know that your simple motions have been driving mine?  
  
I shouldn't let my mind wander like that, especially during class. I can't ruin my image as perfect prefect Percy now can I? And if I don't pay attention for the both of us we'll never get through this year, but my mind has been wandering more and more lately, like I'm only going through the motions of living. Potions just never gets better, doesn't matter what year you are, Snape is still...Snape. I know Harry still gets the worst of it, but ever since...well, Snape seems to treat all Weasleys equally lets just say. Hurt Ron and you hurt Harry, hurt any Weasley hurt them both, such a vicious cycle we've managed to get ourselves thrown into.  
  
Class is finally over, finally, didn't think I would ever wish for a class to end as much as I just have. You look absolutely exhausted. I know you've been practicing at all hours lately, your health isn't worth that damn sport and you know it. Penny rushes over from across the yard smiling the whole way and I give a meek smile back. Do you already see through my illusion? I know you do. You never believe it. You've always known. What she says to me is of no consequence, it's all for show anyway, so people don't become suspicious. She's so sweet for doing it too, to protect my secret. I'm not as comfortable in my skin as my brothers or even Ginny I suspect. Poor Ginny, it's only a matter of time now, I've been observing things. I may not have many talents other then being overly studious but I am observant. But it's little more then a crush. Still, she's not going to like the fact her first crush will be spending eternity with her brother. Even in their innocent motions now I can tell one day they will come to that path. They will come to it and walk along it together.   
  
Still, it's nice to know I'm not the only one who will be failing to carry on the Weasely name, maybe that's why Mum and Dad had so many of us boys. Weasely men never turn out very big or strong or masculine. Bill and Charlie and George and Fred, they'll do the name well though. I'm perhaps the worst off, I never grew very strong nor was I athletic. Oh Ron is just sort of lanky now but I suspect he'll fill out soon enough, he wants so desperately to be on the Quidditch team. I never quite understood the game myself. I only went because of you. Oh and of course my brothers, right, because I love the twins so much.  
  
The twins, there was something always mildly incestuous about them. They would spend hours in their room sometimes in perfect silence. They could never keep quiet that long, simple charms and simple motions. Oh but it's not how I make it sound. They are both more then capable of entertaining girls, but when there are none they are equally capable of entertaining themselves and not always with pranks. For some reason it doesn't seem wrong at all to me. They are from the same egg, were nourished by the same placenta. In all practical respects they are the same. I hate to say it but to me they are interchangeable. They are one complete whole, it only makes sense.  
  
You probably know their outside personalities better then I ever could hope to dream. Because they like you. How will they ever survive without you next year? For that matter, how will I? Without hearing you wake up before dawn to get a few extra minutes of practice, without you dozing away next to me in class. Without you being the first and last person I see each morning and night, I don't know how I'll survive.  
  
At least we have no more classes today. And I become keenly aware that despite walking together for the last several minutes no words have passed between us. But then again we never talk much. We spend so much time together words seem useless. I mean, yes, you have practice and I have my prefect duties, but we eat, sleep, and attend class together each day. We're such an odd pair of friends. Are we even friends? I'm tempted to say we are not, but I think we just might be. We certainly compliment each other, don't we? You can save me from Marcus and I can save you from Snape's class.   
  
Well, yes, it would be rather unfair to make you come off as a stupid jock. You are very much not. I know somewhere in there is a brillant mind wanting to get out. You make fair enough marks. You're just so preoccupied all the time. It really is your dream isn't it? Well, at least it's a relief your one track mind isn't focused on girls. Maybe it gives me a fighting chance? Probably not.   
  
You loosen your tie and let it fall about your shoulders and throw your robe on to your bed. I don't dare do such a thing, after all I'm perfect prefect Percy.  
  
What a load of shit that is.  
  
"Oliver..."  
  
A wordless grunt. Won't you even speak to me?  
  
"I was wondering..."  
  
You slide your sweater over your head and undo the top button of your white shirt before flopping down on your bed. I wouldn't be surprised if you fall asleep right now.  
  
"I was wondering as well."  
  
What a silly statement, we all wonder. The world around us is simply wonderful, even if it does hurt.  
  
"Simple motions"  
  
I can't help what I say. I don't even know why I said it, simple motions. That's all life is, isn't it? Simple surviving, functioning, eat, sleep, breathe, the same things I do in your presence alone. I watch the rise and fall of your chest as you lay on the bed across from where I am sitting. Perhaps I should say nothing.  
  
"Simple motions."  
  
You smile warmly, maybe you understand what I mean, or maybe you're just mocking me. But you sit up and you smile and that is enough for me to know if nothing else you heard me. You stretch out and arch your back like a cat laying in the sun with a yawn equally feline. I can't help but smile. Even if the motions are simple, perhaps they are perfect. Perhaps you are perfect.  
  
Despite the normal little voice in my head I remove my robe but can't help but look at it for a moment. The emblem of Gryffindor so delicately embroidered in gold and scarlet, like the sun and blood. Just under it my prefect badge. I consider removing it from the robe and placing it on to my sweater but I abstain. In typical fashion I open my books right away to get started on my school work. I know you'll need a little of my help later when you wake up so I might as well get my homework finished first. You need your sleep after all. Don't pretend like I don't notice the growing circles under your eyes.   
  
I don't know how long I've been working only that the sun is so far gone I've had to turn on my desk lamp and that last time I checked on you you were still sleeping. You must have been exhausted.   
  
Step step step  
  
My head turns to meet the oncoming noise but its only you. Only you, only everything.  
  
"Had a good rest?"  
  
You're nod is light and there is a thoughtfulness in it. What was it you were dreaming about? I wish I knew. Did you have a revelation? I hope you did.  
  
"Simple motions."  
  
Those words sound so haunting coming from your lips this time. Like something we are forbidden to say. It only carries that connotation in my mind though. The connotation that everything is an empty movement. What a vile thing to think. Don't you think?  
  
Tell me, what do you see?  
  
A boy that looks younger, frailer, yet somehow is the same age as you. Tousled red hair that seems out of place with his otherwise collected outer appearance. Freckles marring otherwise too white skin that looks like a Muggle doll just wanting to be broken. Frail limbs and an even frailer heart. Glasses fitting less then perfectly on his nose. Brown eyes that are neither warm nor mysterious, simply plain and brown. That's how I see myself.  
  
I have to avert my eyes, I can't give away my emotions through my wood colored eyes. Wood colored eyes, what an interesting use of a pun.   
  
I feel like I'm dancing alone. I want nothing more but to touch you to know how it feels, to hear you say my name, such a simple gesture, an innocent motion.  
  
But before I can finish my thought you have already completed it.  
  
Such a simple motion.  
  
One quick fluid motion and your lips are on mine. My hands tighten on the armrests of my chair and I open my mouth to accept you. You taste just like the outdoors, like the sweetness of grass and the pureness of air. You taste like childhood in the countryside.  
  
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?"  
  
I can't even remember you pulling away, but you must have. A blush comes to my cheeks, it must make my freckles look altogether darker. You have known all along haven't you? That Penny was my best friend but nothing more. You knew where my heart lied. You knew.  
  
"Was it as nice as you imagined?"  
  
My head is swimming with questions, cause and effect relationships, possibilities, consequences. Simple motions bring about complex realities. Realities no one is ever quite ready to deal with, interpret, understand. You take my hand in yours.  
  
A simple motion  
  
Endless paths. 


	2. Motion Two

Title: Simple Motions  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: OliverxPercy, suggested Harry+Ron  
Comment: I've just been in a writing mood, and I think I've found the character in the HP series that it actually mildly makes sense to think the way I type. Woo, and the + has turned to the dreaded (although I suspect more anticipated) x, yaoi punctuation has always amused me.  
  
--  
  
A simple motion  
  
Endless paths.  
  
--  
  
You're eyes look into me, questioning, wondering. I wonder too, I wonder who are you. Of course, you're Oliver Wood, captain of the house team. You're Oliver Wood the desire of nearly every girl's dream. You're Oliver Wood, my friend. Can I call you friend with true sincerity after this?  
  
The path now lays before us, it is our choice which road we travel down. From the look in your eyes you are just as lost as I am. There are no maps from this point forward. You don't fully realize what you just did, did you? It was a simple motion of internal desires. I know now I can call you my friend. There was no malice in your motions. There will be no more simplicity in mine. Neither of us have the words, do we? No scripts, no maps, no rules, pure freedom. But my eyes are caught by the light reflecting off my prefect badge.   
  
I love how the light plays off objects with such precision. How when you move an object you can manipulate light, how it is everywhere and part of everything but it has no will of it's own. It conforms to nothing but the highest laws of nature. I wish I was like light.  
  
"No..."  
  
My words can't be above a whisper, perhaps there is no sound at all. It doesn't matter however, as long as you can hear me. Of course it was not as I expected. I expected nothing all along, this was a pleasant surprise. You're eyes drop again and you begin to walk away, back to your bed. That's not what I meant. Why can't you hear the voice in my head? Don't listen to the words from my lips. My outwardly actions are predetermined, only my mind is free from restraints of the flesh.  
  
You lay there in your perfection, staring at the sloping ceiling of our room through the gauze of your four poster bed. Like clouds on a sunny day. I am those clouds and I know it. You are the sun trying to break through. Will you ever appreciate my poetic mind? Do you know it exists?  
  
"Well, now that I've made an ass of myself, I think I'll continue my little nap."  
  
I've always enjoyed the sound of your voice, perhaps for no other reason but that we have different accents. We are very different people from very different places. What a silly dream it would be, that we would fit. A silly dream and an insane reality.  
  
"No..."  
  
Such a loss for words. If only you really could hear my mind. I'm screaming for you in here but my body has forgotten how to scream out in anything other then anger and the only person I'm angry at here is myself. No no no, why can't I get anything else past. Nothing but nos. Double negatives and the like. I've lost sight of the positives.   
  
I remove my sweater, a little shocked that my body is finally obeying my mind again. Listen to my screams, please. I can't take these simple motions anymore, ones that mean everything and nothing at the same time. If you can't hear my screams listen to my whimpers. Just fucking listen to me.   
  
My legs obey and I walk over to your bed, your arm thrown over your face. Don't cry on account of the worried prince. But I know you're not crying, that's something I would do, not you, never you. I kneel next to your bed and take your other and between both of my own. It's so warm compared to mine.   
  
"What is it you want, Percy?"  
  
It's not hatred in your voice, it's worry and concern.   
  
"Childhood in the country..."  
  
I bring my lips to yours, the only part of your face exposed. A rushed awkward motion, but perfect in it's own right. What do I taste like? Books and parchment and ink I suspect. I taste like the indoors and you taste like the outdoors. We are a world onto ourselves. Your hand slips from your eyes and curls around my neck drawing me into you. I'm drowning in your air. My hands are supporting my weight at either of your sides and while it is a bit uncomfortable I can't think of a place I would rather be. My twig like arms are like stilts supporting a house in a hurricane. With a quick motion of your other arm you pull my legs off the ground and on to the bed on top of your own. My arms give out and our lips slip apart. I roll half on to my side next to you and fluidly you are over me. Our eyes meet, everything is in your eyes.  
  
Our mouths collide again and I can feel the warmth of your body on top of mine. Your warmth and the cold of my body thrust us into a sort of heat I can't describe. There are no words for some motions. You reposition yourself, your legs straddling mine so you can sit back and have use of your arms. Calloused hands undo the buttons of my shirt and my own more delicate ones undo the knot of my tie. Each motion is so simple, part of a complex whole. You manage to pull away your own shirt without touching a single button.  
  
Our lips feel as if they are cemented together and I want to leave you drowning in my breath like I drown in yours. Suffocating from shared oxygen. My hands can't help but travel along the expanse of your toned muscular form and I am suddenly aware of how exposed I am. I must not be much to look at. Too skinny arms, a shallow chest moved only by shallow breaths. Everything too skinny and too long like a Muggle scarecrow. Perhaps I am beautiful to you? I hope I am.  
  
Your hand reaches for the belt of my pants and instinctively I push it away. The kiss is broken, the myth is lost. I've offended you again. But this time my body and my mind are in agreement. Don't think I don't want you. Know I'm not ready for this. Understand me, please, hear me.  
  
I can feel your hands wrap around to my back and your warm, moist mouth on my neck, suckling. It feels like innocence. We are tainted but it feels like innocence. There is no malice in your actions.  
  
"What is it you want, Oliver?"  
  
I try to gasp out the words mixed in with my constant breathing, I know I'm alive.  
  
"Innocence in a warm home..."  
  
Is that what I taste like to you? I fully expected classrooms in winter, dusty libraries. But Innocence in a warm home. Is that really who I am? Is that what you taste on my lips, in my heart? Innocence and warmth, like milk and laughter. I want to continue so desperately, but it's getting late and you have yet to even start your homework.  
  
Maybe there is a little truth to perfect prefect Percy.  
  
I think you realize it too and with a final kiss you sigh and release me. Release, that's the wrong word. We leave each other unsatisfied but content. I drift into sleep on your bed while you work at my desk. It becomes a challenge to keep my eyes open and I give in to the darkness.  
  
Whatever time it is when you finally come back to bed I do not know or care. Neither of us bothered in changing for bed and your arm wraps around my naked chest. Your breath falls onto the back of my neck and I realize how cold I was without you. How cold I've been over the last few years. I think you notice that I'm awake again and your hand slips over my skin. What are you searching for in me? There is nothing there for you to find. Again your hand slips where I have before rejected it. Your fingers just below my now undone belt. My hand falls on your wrist to stop it.  
  
"Simple motions."  
  
"Simple motions."  
  
My mind and body in constant conflict. Both my mind and body want this, but still something holds me back. I'm still fighting something but I'm not quite sure what it is. My hand lifts from your wrist and you take it as a cue to continue. There is no use for a charm, there is no one left to silence.  
  
I don't need to pretend it's you, it is you. You're warm breath against my neck, your rough but gentle hands on me. Teasing me without the malice. I struggle to kick away my pants and with a light laugh you help me. If only they could see their perfect prefect now. No, that's not what I meant, what do I mean? I'm so strangely naked with my slender legs against your clothed muscular ones. My breath quickens and my heart races, you hold me on the edge.  
  
Simple motions in the dark.  
  
A complex ecstasy. 


	3. Motion Three

Title: Simple Motions  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: OliverxPercy, suggested Harry+Ron  
Comment: And onward to part three before I loose my will to write again. I just keep getting these bursts of creative energy and somehow it's all getting channeled into this. I should go paint or something, but no, yaoi wins out somehow. And please keep reviewing, it makes me happy.  
  
--  
  
Simple motions in the dark.  
  
A complex ecstasy.  
  
--  
  
It's been three days since that night. You haven't so much as looked at me in those days. Well, of course you look at me, we have all our classes together, but what I mean is you haven't looked at me. You haven't seen me. It's for the best I know, so no one will know. You've held it back much better then I seem to be and I'm the one who should be more in control of my emotions.   
  
Snape finally dismisses us and we nearly fall up the stairs trying to get away. Normally we would walk side by side but you walk a little ahead of me. Leading, commanding. I am more then content to follow for once. You lead me straight up the tower, straight to our room. The door is closed behind us and the room seems somewhat colder then when we left. You haven't touched me in three days either.  
  
"Percy, I think we should talk."  
  
You casually take off your shoes and undo your tie knot while reclining in your desk chair. I remain standing though some part of me gives a silent warning to sit down. I nod for you to continue.  
  
"I get this feeling that you're talking...at me, I don't quite know how to explain it but you always have. You've never really talked with me, it's always at me. And I'm not speaking about aloud."  
  
The blood rushes to my face quickly. Of course I'm always talking at you, I can't expect you to answer questions always in my head. I can't talk with you up here. When I speak aloud the emotion is ripped from my voice, you wouldn't understand.  
  
"See, right now, I don't know what's going on in that little head of yours Percy Weasley."  
  
"When I talk aloud you can't tell what I feel."  
  
It seems so odd. When the words pass out of me without the delicate embellishments that only the mind can supply. The riddles I talk to myself in are nothing but whispers to remain only when I talk to myself. I've spent a lifetime living in my own mind, I don't know how to let you in.  
  
"But I'm not a mind reader either. So am I never supposed to understand you?"  
  
My mind wants to explain everything to you, a constant conflict. Even if I were to explain, could you understand? Are you meant to understand? But certainly three days ago you understood my actions. Let our actions speak for us both. Words are useless beyond the confines of our minds. Reality distorts our words.  
  
Everything and more is in our kiss.  
  
"If you understand that much, it's enough."  
  
Why is it I care for you? It would be pretentious to call it love at this stage but why do I want to be with you? Of course you're hansom and talented, everyone sees that. You're ambitious but not in that Slytherin way. I'm trying to rationalize something that isn't meant to be rational I think. I care for you because you're you. How can I put something in words that I can't even describe in my head. Only now do I realize that we're two fools with no where to go. I should tell Penny, she's going to be so happy for me. She'll think I should drop the act although I really can't yet, and I hate to say it but I think she likes the act in itself.  
  
She's always wanted me to hold her like a boyfriend. And I do sometimes, to keep up the act. And she knows it's an act as much as I do but she doesn't have anyone else really. What I've done to her is unfair. She should have been able to really find someone to love her. Oh of course I love her, but not that desperate kind of love. I love her for her mind, her soul. But I can't love her body, it's so selfish of me. What's even more selfish is my promise to her. A promise that is now void but it was selfish none the less.  
  
We lay now side by side on your bed, simply holding hands. We are two fools with nothing but motions.  
  
Why do I care for you?  
  
--  
  
At dinner we're sitting as we have for the last few years. You are to my left, Harry to my right, Ron across from me and one twin on either side of him, Ginny to the right of whatever twin that is closest to the head table, Hermione to the right of Harry. Placement. I wonder what it would be like if we were to rearrange ourselves. Order. Why do we keep the seats we have always had? Curious. In my mind I am really sitting between you and Ginny, Harry sits between Ron and Hermione and the twins sit together. That's really how we break down, isn't it? We have our little clusters but at dinner we are always dispersed. There are walls of consistency built between us. I associate Ginny with us because she has no where else to go. I know she looks up to me, I want to protect her.  
  
Ron looks to the side of me, right at Harry.  
  
Consitancy will be the death of us.  
  
--  
  
I kick off my shoes in a rather imperfect way. You've already headed down for Quidditch practice with the twins and Harry and the girls. Ron probably followed along to watch. He has such a strategic mind, I think he's after your job. What I am most amazed by is the purity he has. When Harry made the team long before him, the youngest player in a century, he was so genuinely happy for him. No malice.   
  
I leave my robe behind and change into more comfortable shoes, undo my tie. I want to watch you practice. Simple motions. Is there anything more to life? Running, ha, I should scold myself, but the layers are falling away. Out of the common room and down the hall, outside. Grass and air, childhood in the countryside. I run and run to where you are already practicing, the girls taking their best shots at you. The way your body moves, like oil across a surface.   
  
It all seems so melodramatic inside my head. Of course it does. Love is melodramatic in itself. A fire soon to be extinguished, it never burns long. Simply higher and higher until it reaches it's climax and turns to ashes. Ashes to be carried across the grass in the wind. Ashes from a warm fireplace surrounded by a content family. It sears into you and leaves you broken and tired, a fickle thing. It is right to swear love by the ever-changing moon. Love changes its face like you change your direction. It sneaks past you just out of reach. It'll leave you burned and smoldering. Building building to the climax.   
  
I stand in perfect silence watching you. If only you could hear inside my head. You wouldn't laugh because then you would understand. Teenaged love, what a joke, love is always the same. Never unconditional, what are your conditions, captain? Have I lived up to them so far? I am drowning without you.  
  
Such a rush. You are the one dancing alone in the air, my feet planted firmly in the ground, but my head is the one dying from lack of oxygen. Everything is coming so fast. I am dying without you. Simple motions. Breathing is such a simple motion that I can no longer do without you. I'll never do it without you until you leave me then I will breathe for someone else. Do you understand? You continue along your path and I'll continue along mine. They run parallel for now, but I know they will again diverge, perhaps never to be one again. I am trapped in the innocence of childhood. This is the revelation for this path. This is the revelation we are to share. Can you hear me screaming? I scream aloud.  
  
You turn, distracted and the tears run down my face. I don't know why I'm crying, only that I am. Within a moment you are by my side, the others watching us, you throw your arms around me in the sort of comforting way a friend would. I can't ask for anything more. Not here.  
  
"Come on, lets go back to the tower."  
  
I nod, and beyond you I can see Ron, just standing there, looking, knowing.   
  
But I leave you, I cannot be a scar on your record.  
  
"You stay here, I'm fine now."  
  
And as much as it sounds like a lie it is the truth. I'll be alright now. I'll be alright now because I understand, of course I am in love with you, I don't know how long it will last but I know now. I just need the time. You need the time. Our separate paths will converge tonight. For the next few hours we walk alone.  
  
I can walk alone because we breathe together.  
  
A simple shared motion. 


	4. Motion Four

Title: Simple Motions  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: OliverxPercy, suggested Harry+Ron and 'twincest' damn that is a shibby word :D  
Comment: What I write means what you want it to mean. Each person finds their own symbolism in what is presented to me. What I intend is of no matter, it is what you interpret. However, this chapter is random babbling. Also it should be fairly obvious at this point this is mildly au.  
  
--  
  
I can walk alone because we breathe together.  
  
A simple shared motion.  
  
--  
  
I work a bit on my studies while you are at practice. Despite what people seem to think I'm not all that intelligent on my own, I have little natural gift for it. You probably have more natural intellect then I do. Just, I'm willing to work hard, I have to work hard. I have the drive to do well, to work for my goals, ambition. The drive though is my brothers hanging above me, pushing me to be the best. I've made it this far, to Head Boy, but there is still further I can go, I know it. As long as I work, I can take myself farther then anyone else. I hope you understand, that you understand in time we will have to seperate. We'll need to, as we are distinct individuals. Too different to be one whole. It's tearing me apart inside.  
  
Oh but I forget, you can't hear inside my head. Well, for a moment now I will pretend that you can. It works out best for the both of us this way, because what I'm going to tell you I don't want you to know. As in I want someone desperately to help me but I'd rather keep my tragic side hidden, a scar seared on my chest for only god to see, to bear my shame alone. And yes, I am quite taken with Muggle literature.  
  
Yes, well, it started when I was, a third year, yes, about then. That's when I meet Penny, she was sweet and pretty and much nicer to me than anyone else. Smart too, well, she isn't in Ravenclaw for nothing. I would see her in the halls between classes and we would talk and laugh. We started spending a little time out of classes too when we were fourth years. She wanted more then anything to be a prefect just like I did. Oh and maybe I should explain my motivation for wanting to be a prefect as well.   
  
As a Weasley, certain things are expected of you. First, that you are placed in Gryffindor. Oh I suspect that I was much more suited for Ravenclaw, and George and Fred, who knows where they belong, there is no house for annoying twits. And yes, I do love my brothers, in that sort of distanced love way. The second is that whatever you are you must be the best at it. Put your entire heart into it. Perhaps that is why we are all placed into Gryffindor, the bravery to lose ourselves completely and utterly. Well, since I was never a healthy child, and had little skill on a broom Quidditch was out of the question, I decided I wanted to be the best student I could. I decided to become a perfect and Head Boy, and well I got my wish. It was what my heart wanted the most.  
  
Fifth year came and we were both prefects. I was so happy for her and her for I. We tell each other everything even now, though our public meetings are for show. She knows just how I've felt about you, well, about boys in general. And while I'm rambling on I suppose I should also talk about Ron since he's been in my thoughts more then usual as of late.  
  
I do not in any way think Ron's situation is remotely like mine. Although we'll have similar ends, the means are so drastically different. He is going to be with his best friend, it is a simple matter of them taking their relationship one step further then is considered the norm for two boys. Ron isn't, he's not, Ron isn't a homosexual. It's so odd to even think that word, it's like breaking a rule. I despise and loath that word. It sound dirty in my mind and on the tip of my tongue, like acid as an antidote. So painful and wrong but it's the only way out. The only release from torment. But it's the truth, I am a homosexual, Ron is not. I don't think he would ever be attracted to a man other then Harry. It's just the way the world turned out. It's just fate. Divination and all that rubbish. Could have been different, but it's not.  
  
That is why my situation is different then Ron's. Ron and Harry will be side by side forever. To me, you will be just another boyfriend in the end. I love you now and you love me now in a silly teenaged sort of way. I will have other boyfriends as my life moves on, you will have girlfriends and on occasion perhaps you will fall for a boy or two along the way. We will remember each other fondly. Perhaps years from now we will meet again and part of our tragic past love will be rekindled for a few brief hours. Then you will leave me like the tragic hero you are, a broken princess longing in the dark.  
  
You know how our story began and I know how it will end. Tragically. Because that is what I search for in my life more then love, more then rules, more then breathing, I search for Tragedy. Because I am the lost child, the middle son. And I am so unlike the others. I manage to neither stand out nor blend in. I am fighting just to breathe here and the only way I will be heard is in my own personal tragedy. But it's not time yet. I still have years to go. Years at the ministry ahead of me. But in the end the prince will be his own undoing. The hero may try as he might now, but he will be off to slay larger dragons, he will leave the prince alone to contemplate his life, and in time other heroes will try as well, but someone destined for tragedy will meet nothing but it. I have done myself in.  
  
I can hear your heavy footsteps as you enter the dorm room. I turn my body to face you, your face is covered with dirt which seems unexplainable considering Quidditch is played so high above the ground. You're all scratched and bruised but look like you've been having the time of your life. Do you realize you bleed friendliness sometimes? I can't help but smile, only you could make me smile.  
  
"How on earth did you manage that?"  
  
"Had a little run in with a goal post."  
  
Your smile is so broad and warm and inviting. I don't even want to resist it. My lips cover yours and I can feel the earth upon it. You really do taste like the outdoors in a literal sense now.  
  
"I think you need a bath."  
  
"I know I need one."  
  
"Well then, grab your things and follow me."  
  
I know exactly what makes me so bold, it's rather simple to explain. I'm in love with the idea of love. That wicked little smile is still clinging to the corners of your mouth. I lead the way down the corridors to the prefect bathroom. There could be others in there but it doesn't very well matter as they would be just as embarrassed as we would. I highly doubt it anyway. I whisper the password ("Oak Brook") and the look of delight on your face is just enough for me. I lock the door behind us and start turning on the taps.   
  
The multicolored bubbles fill both the large tub and the air around us. Each a perfect circle floating ever upwards in it's infancy and rupturing as the strain of the world around it becomes too much for its delicate surface. They never mature, they die as newborns.  
  
By the time I've completed my task you are already submerged in the foamy water. Nervously I work the buttons on my dress shirt and slip out of it. My pants following soon after. I'm hesitant to remove the last barrier and somehow you understand and advert your eyes. Once I am in the water as well you turn back to face me. You've already managed to clean yourself up rather well.  
  
"I can tell now what the big deal about being a prefect is."  
  
A single motion and I can't tell where you end and I begin. The water is the same tempature as our skin and everything runs into everything else, like feeling nothing and everything all at once. You're mouth feels hotter and wetter then anything else around me and it's all I can focus on. I love being a teenager in love.  
  
Your hands press down on my hips so I sit on one of the stairs of the bath and fluidly, as if you were flying you are over me. What you don't realize is in this world I am a better flyer then you could imagine and I slip away swimming quickly to the other side of the pool, teasing. You follow but it's obvious that I do out perform you here. In the air you could certainly capture me but I am far more graceful in water. But I don't want to run forever. I let you catch me and there is a look of pride on your face. Beaming with childlike innocence. Too soon that will all be lost.  
  
Simple motions and nothing more.  
  
Innocence crushed by ambition. 


	5. Motion Five Point One : Climax Possible ...

Title: Simple Motions : Climax (Possible Chapter)  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: OliverxPercy, suggested Harry+Ron and Fred+George  
Comment: Ok, this was something I wrote because I wanted to kill someone off. I like doing it, deaths are fun to write. There was much debate in my crazy little mind who would it be. Originally I wanted Percy to kill Ron. But I had previously writen a piece where an older brother kills the younger. Then Oliver killing Ron, I didn't like that either. And I absolutely hate suicide. Hate it like burning. Then I had Percy killing Oliver (Percy being the central character obviously could not die, duh) well, in the end I came up with this. If you scratch your head and go 'what the fuck' don't worry, I did too while writing it. Anyway, here's the deal with it. I can either continue along this path, or I can return to the world where this fic almost made sense and didn't quite have a plot. Leave me a little note in the reviews saying either 'go with this' or 'dear lord go back.'  
  
--  
  
Simple motions and nothing more.  
  
Innocence crushed by ambition.  
  
--  
  
It just had to be you, didn't. You had to be the one to crush the last of my hope. You you you. You ripped it away with your pale innocent hand. You're pale innocent hand and a knife. That's all it took, I thought I was stronger then this. That's all it took to destroy me. Was it intentional? Was it intentional? Did you know? Of course you knew but why. Why why why. You had to do it but why. It was not my life you ruined. Not his. It was your own. Your own and Harry's. You're just a child.   
  
Why why why why.  
  
Where are you now, Ron? Where have you gone to? Why did you? I know who will know. Of course, Harry will know, he knows where you are, why you did it. He'll be the only one forever to know. To know to know to know. Do you know how much you hurt me? But it wasn't only me. You killed four of us with that single blade motion.   
  
Oliver is Dead.   
  
I am Dead.  
  
You are Dead.  
  
Harry is Dead.  
  
And tonight we lay Oliver to rest, consumed by the earth that set him forth upon the world. No one deserves to die so young. And the hand that slay him younger still. I've spent all this time talking to him, but now I am speaking to you Ron. You've killed us all. They never knew, about us, they never will. My secret lingers still longer overshadowed by the secret of Oliver's death. They keep asking me questions, all I can mutter you your name over and over, louder and louder. I want to protect you but from what I do not know.   
  
The funeral. Do you know how many people you've hurt? Of course you do. What a silly question. One motion and his life was over. Fred and George, they have been so quiet since then. I fear they loved him more then they love me. I wonder if all these people would cry at my death. I doubt they would. They would come of course, but they would say something like 'Percy wouldn't want us to cry, he would want us to move on.'  
  
Why can't anyone see that's not the truth?  
  
Penny sits by my side holding my arm, trying to comfort me when I shake. I've been shaking since that night; I can't stop though my face remains fixed in an unreadable expression. Sometimes it's just my hands and other times my entire body. But, I have yet to cry. Perhaps it is the truth. I'm sure they all have questions for me, they've asked me so many already. But not the one they want to ask. They ask the ones to find you, to find a motive, but not the question they are all dying to ask. Simply dying.  
  
I wish they never ask because I will never have a suitable answer. If their simple minds would just think logically and not make excuses they would have their answer. But I know their question because they refuse to see the answer. 'Was Oliver raping you?' Oh they would be more subtle of course but none the less that would be the question. And the answer they are looking for is 'Yes.' Yes, because Ron was just defending his brother. Yes, Oliver brought this on himself. Yes because it explains the tangled bedsheets. Yes, because it explains the blood on my body. Yes, because the perfect prefect couldn't possibly be in love with a man.  
  
No.  
  
My answer is no, now come and ask me. It's because you fear my answer that you do not ask. Ask me you cowards. Curse four of your chosen sons in a single simple word. No.  
  
Sooner or later you'll all know, and there will be no turning back. So turn your backs on us now and we can live in paradise a little longer. This school, a cage for one, a grave for another, forbidden and forgotten. I can no longer speak to the forbidden, though I can forgive him. You, you will never forgive him, will you? Because he has killed. I saw it and I can't take back what I saw.  
  
It will live with me forever. The knife as it came between Oliver and I. Ron, still so innocent standing beside our bed, so angry. The blood fell from the knife and spilled over on to me. It was so red, so bold against my too pale skin. It was warm just like Oliver. I didn't cry. I was too horrified to cry. Oliver just kept trying to breathe, but no air went in. Nothing, it was silent other then three breaths. Then there were only two. Ron's breath so much faster than mine. Oliver's weight tumbled on to me. The sheets and our hands stained in blood of innocence. Before and after, there were three innocent children in that room.   
  
The handle of the knife was so delicate. A dragon molded from the silver metal. I suppose Charlie gave him that knife. A gift from one brother to another, to rip a treasure from the third. I've found my tragedy. My family won't lose track of me anymore. No, because Bill was head boy, Charlie was the Quidditch star, Fred and George were the tricksters, Ron was the murderer. And I, I was the son whom Oliver Wood died inside.   
  
It was such an odd feeling. It was the first time I let him...I let him. And it hurt so much but I didn't want him to stop. I would have told him I'd love him forever at that moment. Weather or not I would have meant it I'll never know. And when he died, still inside me. I felt like I was going to vomit. That's when I began to shake. I haven't stopped since. I lay there in somewhat of a daze and Ron began to run. I wonder if he is still running now. I don't want him to stop. If he stops they'll find him. I don't want anyone to find him except me.  
  
It's not pretty or rational. Life isn't pretty or rational.   
  
We're back in the Burrow now and the twins are in their rooms. Too silent. Ron's room will forever be silent now. I climb the stairs to the top room, still a blaze of orange, gaudy but silent. I lay down on his bed and pull his covers around me, staring at the patch hole ceiling.  
  
I cry for the first time I have left my innocence. 


End file.
